


Break That Face

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, Superman (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Swearing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark tries desperately to make the legendary Batman crack a smile for once in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break That Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meri47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meri47/gifts).



> Originally written as a birthday gift for my friend Meri47.

Clark stares contemplatively into the night, enjoying the view from the top of the Wayne Enterprises office skyscraper, and then says, “Shit.”

“You’re not even trying,” Bruce says. He’s perched on the ledge next to Clark, cloak drawn around himself, head in shadow. “That’s barely a curse.”

“I suppose not.” He thinks for a moment. Then, cheerfully, “Fuck.”

“Took too long. I was expecting it.”

“Of  _course_  you were.”

“Do you give up?”

“Not a chance. I  _swear_  I’m going to break that face.”

“If you like. We should get going.”

 

* * *

 

Clark doesn’t blend into the Gotham night especially well, but he moves quickly enough to make up for it. They hit a meth lab first, and Clark takes care of neutralizing the impending explosion while Bruce immobilizes the dealers.

When one particularly volatile substance combusts in his hand, he says, “Son of a  _bitch._ ”

The drug dealers stare at him. Bruce doesn’t say anything.

“I saw your mouth move.”

“Trick of the light.”

 

* * *

 

Next they break up a bar fight, and in the process nab several recent entrants into Bruce’s always up-to-date list of wanted felons. As they’re preparing to leave the crooks bound outside the precinct, Clark says to one, in quite a friendly way, “You’re going to jail, motherfucker.”

Bruce’s mouth  _definitely_  moves a little, but he doesn’t smile. He  _certainly_  doesn’t laugh.

Except—“You’re subvocalizing.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t count.”

“But—”

“As I recall, you specified that I had to laugh  _out loud._ ”

“Ok, that’s true.” Clark glances down at the crook he’s zip-tying. “ _You_  didn’t hear him laugh, did you?”

The guy shakes his head, terrified.

Clark sighs. “I thought so.”

 

* * *

 

Mugging. “Dick.”

 

* * *

 

Convenience store robbery. “Cocksucking douchebag.”

“Nothing wrong with the first part of that.”

“No, of course not, but the  _language_  is crude, that’s the point.”

 

* * *

 

Building on fire. Nothing.

Bruce glances at him.

Clark looks distressed. “There are children present.”

 

* * *

 

At a certain point Clark hears Bruce’s breathing becoming labored, notices that his heartrate’s up and he’s showing signs of fatigue, and claims to be tired. They stop on a roof not far from the one they started on, and Bruce says, “I think you’ve lost the bet.”

Clark shrugs. “I suppose so. I didn’t even manage to get a chuckle.”

“That’s probably because I’m wearing earplugs. Haven’t heard a word you’ve said all night.”

Clark stares at him—and then sees the familiar glint in his eyes and snorts a laugh. “ _Christ,_  Bruce. You’re such a fucking  _asshole._ ”

Bruce’s eyes go wide.

There’s a breathless pause.

A snorting noise.

And then Bruce crumples and collapses in gales of hysterical laughter.

Clark blinks. “That one wasn’t even  _good._ ”

And then he hears, behind him, Dick saying in faint tones, “Clark…?”

Bruce goes off into a fresh spasm of laughter.

Clark turns around and there’s Dick, in costume, perched on the edge of the roof. His eyes are round as saucers. His mouth is distended in baffled horror.

Dick raises one blue-and-black-gloved hand and waves nervously. “Hi…?” He sounds terribly, desperately confused.

Clark waves, says, “Evening, Dick,” and then starts to laugh helplessly.

Once he’s able to breathe again, Bruce picks himself up. “I think I owe you a milkshake, Clark.”

Dick just stares.


End file.
